


And the bartender says, "I already know what you're having"

by destinationtoast



Series: 1000 Watsons [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 00:57:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14321007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destinationtoast/pseuds/destinationtoast
Summary: A con populated entirely with Sherlocks is an impressive and disturbing thing.





	And the bartender says, "I already know what you're having"

**Author's Note:**

> I am sad not to be at 221B Con, and I wrote something for @221b-consolation and everyone else who's in the same boat.

“Good lord, why are there so many of him?”

Molly titters. “It is a bit overwhelming, isn’t it? He said something about an interdimensional something. I’m afraid I didn’t really catch most of it…” In a flash, she sobers. “Why, d’you need him? Is there a case?”

Lestrade shakes his head. “Oh, no… no case on right now. Certainly nothing to interest the likes of him.”

“Pity,” she smiles, nodding toward the swarm of Sherlocks before them, overwhelming the pub that they’re in. “Seems like the perfect time for one.  Just think how quickly you could solve it!”

Lestrade snorts. “Not sure having more of him would make anything easier.  Not without an equal number of Johns to help keep all of them in check, anyway.” He glances around, expecting but failing to see the doctor nearby, watching raptly. “Where is he?”

“Erm, something called WatsCon, I think? One of the Sherlocks said. Actually, several of them said – they keep trying to send John to fetch things and then remembering he’s not there, and being grouchy about it. Apparently all this is an annual occurrence, though, for both of them.”

Lestrade is faintly surprised to find London still standing, if all this has happened repeatedly. At the very least, he’s surprised the walls here aren’t shot up, or otherwise destroyed.  Sherlock must not find himself boring. “How many of them are there, anyway?”

“I lost count before 100.  They keep moving around.”

Lestrade hadn’t noticed a pattern to the chaos before, but he does now. Pairs of Sherlocks are speaking quickly for a short period of time, then separating and regrouping. It reminds him of something… something painful he went through once, post-divorce. His eyebrows shoot up. “Are they  _speed dating_?”

Molly bites her lip in a valiant effort to hold in laughter. “Speed deducing, I think.”

“Oh. Right.”

Lestrade is on the verge of leaning in to listen to a nearby conversation, but he hesitates.

“Go on,” Molly encourages.  “They won’t notice you.”  She laughs self-deprecatingly.  “Or, at least, they haven’t noticed me.”

He smiles back awkwardly; she’s too lovely and talented a woman to be waiting around for someone who ignores her – much less several hundred someones.  But he feels too awkward to say so.  Instead, he commiserates. “He ignores me, too, when there’s no case on.”

And then he’s too curious to stay away, so he wanders closer to one of the pairs of Sherlocks.  One of them is dressed about like Lestrade is used to, while the other is wearing much tighter and more ostentatious clothes, and sneering a bit.

“… working in a coffee shop? Really?”

“Not like that was a difficult one; you can deduce that from the aromas carried on my clothing alone.  I assure you, the chemistry of hot beverages is more interesting than you’d think – especially with some of the blends Mrs. Hudson purchases – and criminals will –”

“Say anything in front of a barista?”

“Exactly!  Now as for you –”  the second Sherlock grabs the hand of the first one, examining the fingers.  “Interesting – violin is not your primary stringed instrument.  Not any more.  You also play guitar, and you’re currently on tour with your rock band…”

Lestrade has trouble imagining Sherlock doing that, although he does like to be the center of attention – maybe a barista is harder to conceive of, after all.  

“How far along are you?” another Sherlock asks his current opposite, and Lestrade tries to figure out what that question even means.  “You’re not showing yet, but your nipples are more prominent than ours usually are – easy to spot in our favorite shirt, I’m afraid – and based on your expression when you took a sip of the wrong drink by accident, I’d guess you’re right around the middle of your first trimester.”

Lestrade blinks and backs away. These are definitely not all his Sherlock.  And the idea of Sherlock with worse even mood swings… he shudders and moves quickly onward through the crowd.

“Well, beyond the obvious… ” one Sherlock drawls, with a pointed look at another’s wings.  

Lestrade moves on again, letting a wave of deductions from different Sherlocks wash over him.

“… you’re captain of your own pirate ship, and the type of gunpowder left on your clothes by your flintlock pistols marks where and when you roam the seas…”  The DI wonders if he’s obligated to arrest pirates, but decides it’s not his division – particularly not those from a different era.

“…which means you reside in Appalachia! Fascinating – let’s see … West Virginia?” 

“Victorians. Why are so many of you Victorians?” one Sherlock muses. “Why are so many of you schoolboys?” The other retorts, looking particularly severe beneath slicked back hair.

There’s an otter in a scarf at the bar.  “You’re only an undercover bartender,” it says assuredly, in a disconcerting familiar voice.  The Sherlock serving him from behind the bar looks bored through his eye-liner.  
  
“So you’re dating John?” A Sherlock says, too confident and self-satisfied to truly be a question. Similar deductions are peppered throughout the conversations. “You’re with Molly?” “You’re with Irene?” “You’re with John and Mary?” “You’re with someone named Reader?” “You’re with Moriarty?” (Lestrade blanches.) “You’re with Mycroft?” (He blanches harder).  
  
“You’re with Gavin?”  “His name is Greg.”  
  
And that’s it.  Lestrade flees, very nearly literally running back to Molly.  
  
“Had enough?” she says with a sympathetic smile.  When he nods, she asks, “Buy you a drink?”  then quickly adds, “Not here.  Somewhere… else.  Quieter.  Less Sherlocky.  I mean, unless you don’t want to.  We could just leave.  Separately, if you don’t want to go together –”

He’s still processing what he heard before – or trying, and failing – so it takes him a moment.  But finally he comprehends and is delighted.  “No!  Yes.  I mean, a drink would be great.  And then I’ll buy you one, too, if you don’t mind.”

Her own smile grows in a mirror of his own.  “Right.  Yes, please.”  The moment is perfect, and Lestrade is extremely grateful that all the Sherlocks are too self-absorbed to notice and cock it up somehow.  He takes Ms. Hooper’s arm and together, they leave the Sherlocks to their deductions.

**Author's Note:**

> For those curious about the AUs referenced here, I was writing this on a plane without internet access, so I was mostly referencing generic coffee shop!Sherlock, winglock, mpreg!Sherlock, etc (I love that our fandom is so large and productive that these are all large categories XD ). But I did have a few epic AU fics in mind:
> 
> Piratelock: [A Further Sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587847) by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock  
> Appalachianlock: [The Bone Fiddle series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/76978) by Vulgarweed & htebazytook  
> Rockstarlock: [Pull the Stars from the Sky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/378901/chapters/618402) by roane  
> Undercover bartenderlock: [Midnight Blue Serenity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/635897/chapters/1151468) by BeautifulFiction


End file.
